


Miracles and Mercy

by Simp_4_wilde



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Angst, Character Death, Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Knight Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Prince Aziraphale (Good Omens), Prince Crowley (Good Omens), Slow Burn, two kingdoms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:02:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26114611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simp_4_wilde/pseuds/Simp_4_wilde
Summary: The kingdom of Virtues was know as the center of peace. The King's 5 children all married off to the heirs of the surrounding kigdoms. All except Aziraphale. After countless rejections of courting, Aziraphale has no choice but to marry the eldest heir from the 5th Kingdom of Azazel. Azazel is also known as the kingdom of the fallen, and this heir he's bound to wed? He's also known as the black knight.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Sergeant Shadwell/Madame Tracy (Good Omens)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fanfic on Archive of our own (be gentle). I'm not exactly sure how many chapters will be included in this story but I'll attempt to get a good estimate! I'll be updating weekly if all goes according to plan. With out further ado, enjoy Miracles and Mercy!

In life there is always a duality. Peace and war, good and bad, right and wrong, etc. These dualities in question, are essential for the balance of life and its workings. In the Kingdom of Virtues these "dualities" were unheard of, the strongest of the 5 kingdoms and the beacon of tranquility. How? It was simple really, have 5 children and marry them off to the single heirs of each opposing kingdom. Gabriel, Michael, Sandalphon, Aziraphale and Uriel all married off (happily or not). Well...almost all. You see Aziraphale was never quite the first pic. Ever. He had tried to court before, once or twice, maybe a flower or hand-written poetry. No result though, in fact he was deemed a waisted effort by his former suitors. When quiet he was a bore and when he talked he was too opinionated, too stubborn. Aziraphale pulled the straws in life and apparently the short end was his result. So it was no surprise when King Mattias had messaged all of the Fell children back to Virtues for an urgent meeting regarding the second youngest prince. Aziraphale was out in the garden reading when he saw his siblings arrive. 

"It's just like you to be hiding out here," Michael stood over Aziraphale, her sun hat shadowing the book in his hands. Michael was always one for a more campy wardrobe. Aziraphale sat up straighter in response knowing the scolding he'd get for being a slouch. Michael raised an eyebrow but didn't waste another second on the conversation and made her way towards the ivory gates. Sandalphon was right behind her snickering, and Uriel gave a quick pat of respect to her older brother before calling their butler for a bottle of wine. As each of them entered the palace, Aziraphale couldn't help but feel a bit lost. His relationship wasn't strong with his siblings, which was his fault mostly. To him talking to his siblings was like talking to drywall. Never a real discussion, just you saying things and them nodding back. 

"Well if isn't the talk of the palace," Gabriel stood at the entrance of the Garden waving with a smile . Aziraphale felt his heart jump at the sight of his eldest brother. It had been 4 years since they last saw each other at Gabe's wedding. The prince set down his book and ran up to meet his brother's open embrace, Gabriel let out a huff at the impact. "Missed me that much sunshine?" 

"Oh don't flatter yourself...but yes. Gabriel it was unbearable! Mothers taken up opera lessons again, we've lost half the bottles in the wine chamber, and father don't even get me started-" 

"Father what, Aziraphale?," Mattias stood at the edge of the palace doorway with a most unwelcoming scowl. Lord of kindness, father of hope, king of the broken, all names used to address Aziraphale's father. Living up to these titles before was no problem, but when it came to his youngest son's taunts he was less than gracious. 

"Oh nothing, just discussing your righteousness," Aziraphale teased letting go of Gabriel. Expression softening , Mattias signaled for a hug from his eldest. The two were by far the closest in the family due to Gabriel being next in line for the throne (and the shared repulsive obsession with being the best). Pulling Mattias in, Gabriel couldn't help but notice his fathers weak grip. 

"You look terrible," Gabriel said, ruffling Mattias' thinning hair. It was true, the king did look like shit. Even Aziraphale noticed, but he wouldn't mention it to his father. Not yet anyways. It had been plaguing the young prince of course, Mattias seemed to be growing weaker by the minute and no one had said a word. Aziraphale had adopted the roll of caretaker with out hesitation. It was little things like bringing him medical tea, running his bathes with flowers and oils, making sure his diet consisted of vegetables only, and taunting the old man to no end. In the past Mattias would loathe such treatment (being raised in a time where taking a bathe every 5 weeks counted as self care). Now it seems Mattias is uncapable of doing much on his own anymore. He's only 65, but the years seemed to stretch him out far more than what was normal. 

All three of the Fell men clobbered inside the palace arguing about some sort of wine. Queen Serena looked solemnly out of the living room window as her eldest son walked in. She always enjoyed basking in the aesthetic that was sadness. They hugged only for a moment before Gabriel and Aziraphale took seats next to the rest of the family. Mattias looked upon his children with a smile and made his way towards his chair. 

"As you all know, Virtues has been the center of peace in our world for years. This peace has been achieved not only through my efforts, but through my selfless children," Mattias signaled to the lot in front of him, "The five kingdoms have lived on with no issue for years now, no threat in sight. I thought that we were through, really I did, and I...I hate to do this. Aziraphale my boy, come here." Aziraphale stood and kneeled in front of his fathers chair, callused hands enveloped his own. "Aziraphale, my most pure of heart, I ask of you something I'd would never ask any other soul in this room if I had a choice. The kingdom of Azazel continues to go unchecked, they threaten war against the peace of our nation. It was seen as a disrespectful to their kingdom that they were never asked to court my children. Luther believes we see his empire as lesser and will not tolerate it any longer. He asks of one thing as a reconcile, the hand of one of my children for his eldest son...the black knight," And there it was. The duality of the peace and good Aziraphale had known all his life. The balancing of the universe. Aziraphale was going to marry the overseer of Azazel, the son of Luther. 

The room went completely still. Gabriel shot up, red faced with anger. 

"What the hell are you playing at here? You want to send Aziraphale to Azazel to marry the black fucking knight-" 

"That's quite enough Gabe. Don't you think it's about time Aziraphale started taking some responsibility for this family," Michael interrupted, a smile playing on her face, "He's 22 now, he has to play his part." 

"It's not a part its a goddamn death wish. Aziraphale steps a foot in Azazel and he's gone! It's the kingdom of thieves and murders, how could you do this to him he can't handle-" 

"I'll do it," Aziraphale whispered, since when did he become so bold? Deep down he knew it was the shock, "If it is my duty to you father, I will fulfill it." His father smiled, but there was a shame beneath it all because Aziraphale was last again. Married to the black knight, a prince of true bloodshed. Aziraphale knew how to swordfight and shoot an arrow...but he had never really hurt anything before. And yet he was expected to rule a kingdom where violence was it's capitol. His mother began to weep to herself and Gabriel continued smear his father, but Aziraphale knew none of that mattered, all was done. Uriel took another swig of her wine before getting up to leave the palace, she could never handle things like this. But who could? Azazel wasn't a place for men of peace, it wasn't a place for men at all. Aziraphale was being sent to hell on Earth, and the angels cried. 

\-------------------------------------------------- 

Aziraphale sat alone on his balcony that night. Wind danced beneath the curtains of his window, the sound was sweet. Before bed Mattias explained that King Luther and his children would arrive tomorrow afternoon. Alone by himself, Aziraphale began to cry. A silent cry that no one else deserved to hear. The maids packed his things before bed and said their goodbyes to the prince, although they didn't really seem to care anyway. It made Aziraphale wonder why he even waisted tears in the first place. Who would even miss him in Virtues? Gabriel would go off again with his wife Rosalie until it was time to take his place as King, so wouldn't the rest of his siblings. Father would be taken care of by the help and mother never talked much to Aziraphale anyways. What was there to miss? The thought of it only made Aziraphale fall deeper into himself, but it was nothing new really. He had gone his whole life with this strange rejection, this marriage was no exception. In his heart Aziraphale knew he was always the only option. Maybe fear was the reason Aziraphale felt so gone. No. He wasn't scared of the black knight. They were to be married whether his partner wanted him or not, and together they would live however "couples" do. Maybe that's really why he cried tonight. Aziraphale wasn't scared of the black knight, he was scared that even the black knight wouldn't want him. 

"You alright sunshine?" a husky voice made it's way through his door and Aziraphale turned to see his older brothers face. Gabriel was pale and looked much smaller than usual. He sat down on Aziraphale's bed only to turn his back. "I'm sorry Aziraphale, if I had the choice I would destroy that rotting hole-" 

"Don't ever say that Gabriel, don't even think it. Peace requires sacrifice. Azazel might be a hassle but it's my hassle now and there are innocent people-" 

"And the black knight? Is he your hassle now? The man who watches over all that bloodshed and sin." 

"Oh when you put it like that he sounds quite charming," Aziraphale rolled his eyes. 

"I'm not joking Aziraphale, I hate to think that such a monster would be the one you betroth to." 

"And I'm not joking either. Monster or not I will be marrying him and will treat him as I do everyone else. The same goes for the people of Azazel. Lord! you are so quick to judge!" Aziraphale said, although he knew his words would never convince his brother. Stubbornness runs through the family. Gabriel despised Azazel and it's people, sinners were the only word to address them in his mind. Sounds of the wind that swayed with him grew quiet as Aziraphale took place next to Gabriel. 

"You are so quick to forgive! Your kindness is naïve." Gabriel whispered. Aziraphale though for a moment, twiddling with his bedsheet. Maybe he was naïve to be so unafraid. But it was better than being scared out of his wits. Aziraphale would be thrown to wolves tomorrow, and he knows too well being cold would get him nowhere. 

"Hate is something Azazel has seen before, don't you think it's time for something new?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Luther arrives at the castle to take Aziraphale back to Azazel, but Gabriel won't let him go with out a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter guys! I think I’m gonna stick to posting chapters on Wednesday’s (but I could possibly sprinkle in double updates every now and then). I swear you guys prince Aziraphale has my heart.

Finding a word to describe the feeling pestering Aziraphale the next morning was difficult. Maybe it was dread, although there wasn't much about his surroundings that would provoke such an emotion. He had woken from a sleepless night, but Aziraphale had a habit of fussing in bed till the sun's rising. That was nothing new. The temperature was a bit warmer today so the weather couldn't possibly be the reason. Even the sun was out, bleeding into his room and brightening the harsh grays of the décor. How could he feel dread on such a beautiful day? Oh! Of course.

He was being traded today.

Aziraphale let himself fall back into the pillows (maybe if he sank deep enough he would suffocate). The importance of the day stirred a sick and bubbling anxiety in the pit of his stomach, making it difficult to stand. After 3 minutes of failure in getting out of bed, In the most childish way Aziraphale began to kick his feet until small feathers began to float around his room. The maids must have heard him ruffling the sheets because they popped in to see what all the noise was about. All they found was a red faced prince trying to drown himself in a sea of goose feathers. Alas, nothing seemed to phase the help anymore and they hastily reminded Aziraphale that breakfast was prepared. Apparently he was already late. Sure, Aziraphale loved breakfast on his own, tasting sweet breads and teas while the birds sung from the courtyard. But It was different when his entire mess of a family was there to watch. Aziraphale wrapped a shawl around his shoulders before pattering quietly down the castle steps on his own. He always relaxed when the cold tile met his feet, like a refreshing shock to his blundering morale. As Aziraphale entered the kitchen, he grinned a bit seeing the exact image painted in his mind. Uriel was half asleep on the table hungover, Sandalphon as usual being smacked around by Michael for touching her plate, and Gabriel glaring at his bowl of sweet porridge. Queen Serena was nowhere in sight and Mattias looked more stressed than ever, avoiding the porridge glare from his oldest son. He looked up to see Aziraphale in the doorway.

"Good morning Aziraphale, come, the maids brought you you're favorite sweet porridge." Mattias voice cracked in desperation as he signaled towards the empty seat beside him. Before, Aziraphale was never invited to sit next to father. All he talked about were books and his eccentric curiosities about life that did nothing but confuse the king to a point of irritation. But today was different. Sitting down, Aziraphale felt the distinct burn of watching eyes at the nape of his neck. How pleasant. At least the first few minutes of breakfast were quiet, but Aziraphale knew it couldn't last long when Gabriel was abusing his porridge like that. Still, Aziraphale let his eyes droop and he listened to the sounds of nature outside the palace walls. If you paid attention close enough you could hear the faint chirp of songbirds. Oh how he wished to be a bird, to caress the winds of freedom and sing at last. Aziraphale wondered if the birds sang in Azazel and if their voices were quite as sweet. The songs themselves must be very different-

"You're really forcing him to accept this?," Gabriel seethed. There it was. Aziraphale watched as his father deflated from his seat. The king had spent the whole night arguing with Gabriel about his brother's fate. Mattias already felt like an arse but the look of betrayal in Gabriel's eyes was something unholy.

"None of that Gabriel," Aziraphale was calm as he spoke. Gabriel was annoyed of course, but Aziraphale only put a hand on his brother's shoulder, "I'd rather not be upset today". The tension slowly evaporated, and Gabriel let it go for his brother's sake. Breakfast went on as usual until the maids crept in to take Aziraphale away for dressing. If there was one thing Aziraphale was embarrassed about it was his lack of fashion sense. All his clothes were either out of date or not flashy enough when compared to the rest of his sibling's wardrobes. The maids finally led him back to his room where inside a brand new coat lay on his bed. A small gasp escaped Aziraphale's lips as looked over the beautiful piece. The coat was a simple off white color with gold leaves embroidered across the buttons. Pastel blue and rose jewels were littered into the lacing as well as white stones on the buttons. There was a small glow that emitted from the fabric, but nothing too out there. It was just right. He traced his hands along the sleeve, he could feel the unique stitching. Nothing like any of his other pieces. Hand made. A small note was placed beside the coat, "A piece of me for your special day, I'll always be with you- mother". Aziraphale ignored the hitch in his breathe and let another set of tears roll down his cheeks. It wasn't sadness as much as it was shock. Serena had never made her youngest son anything like this before, after Uriel was born it was like pieces of her had been lost. Stitch work was one of them. Through the years she became a sad woman who loathed the world before her. As a child Aziraphale had tried to console his mother, picked her flowers and braided her hair. But once he turned 13 it became painstakingly clear the two had nothing in common. The queen hadn't stitched in ages how long did this take her? Aziraphale knew none of it mattered, he just held the piece close to his chest and sobbed.

"Your majesty I'm here to do your- oh goodness!" One of Aziraphale's maids, Olivia, walked in to find him in the corner sobbing into a coat. She helped him up and sat him in front of a vanity. "We can't have you crying today my lord, I'll get the girls to pack your coat somewhere safe." Aziraphale only nodded afraid anything else would cause another tsunami of emotions, Olivia got to work. As her fingers carded his through his curls, Aziraphale faced his reflection and traced the prominent features. If there was one thing Serena and Aziraphale shared in life it was their looks. She'd never admit it, but Michael was terribly envious of her brother’s natural femininity. The prince was always known for being a pretty boy. Pity it was never enough.

"Almost there...and done!," Olivia blushed the princes cheeks before handing him a small mirror, "Y'know you'd look even more handsome if you'd give us a smile. I'll wait outside while you finish getting ready." Aziraphale thought about Olivia's notion for a moment, but decide against it. When Aziraphale smiled his face did this thing where it scrunched up and widened at the same time, which could be awfully embarrassing. He got up to look around his empty room, all that was left was the outfit Olivia had prepared in the closet. For a reason he couldn't pin as unusual, Aziraphale didn't perceive the room as any less lonely than it was before. Now it just had less stuff. After changing, Aziraphale got up to follow Olivia down the marble halls of the castle. Each painting on the walls, whose names Aziraphale knew by heart, looked down and said goodbye to the prince. The wood floors he used to adventure on creaked beneath his feet, mourning the loss of their last child. Each furnace and chair and trinket all knew the heart of the castle was leaving today. Once they had made it to the throne room, Aziraphale saw his siblings lined up aside Mattias and Serena. Gabriel waved for Aziraphale to join him at the edge of the steps with a face still twisted with displeasure. Aziraphale wished to say a final goodbye to Olivia but when he turned she was already gone, he attempted to speak to his brother but a guard beat him to it, stepping up to the throne. He bowed and pulled out a small scroll from his pocket.

"King Mattias of Virtues, it is with great honor I present to you King Luther of Azazel." With that the gates opened and light flooded in. Rattling armor echoed across the thick walls of the castle shaking the tile beneath their feet. Sheltered by a crown of sliver, a tall man wrapped in furs stalked across the scarlet carpet. King Luther had arrived. For some reason, Aziraphale had imagined him as much scarier than he actually was. Sure Luther was covered in scars and built like an ox, but he had the same tired lines Mattias bore, lines of a father. Behind him was his daughter and guard who both looked deeply unamused with the whole ordeal. The guard was a man with ragged blonde hair and black eyes, the comical scowl displayed on his face made Aziraphale giggle. The princess however was far more intimidating, she had black hair that mopped across her eyes and carried herself like a general in command. The guard of Virtues stepped back in fear before pulling out the scroll once more, "and his eldest son, the black knight, sir Anthony J. Crowley of Azazel-"

"Yeah, uh Crowley will do just fine thanks," a voice interrupted. Another lanky man draped in black furs stepped through the gates of Virtues with a dauntless grin. The black knight (or Crowley as he said). Crowley's "walk" into the palace looked to be more of a strut and Aziraphale didn't know if it was cool or hilarious. Looking Crowley over, Aziraphale noticed the knight wasn't wearing any actual armor, he was completely exposed. The fur coat Crowley wore stopped at his knees, and had two tightening strings knotted together by a golden snake emblem. Jade earrings, circular black shades, and golden waist beads glimmered through his shadow. Crowley's hair was a dark red, pulled into a low ponytail with strands splaying across his face. And what a face it was! Aziraphale couldn't help but find him quite handsome. Narrow nose, lean jaw, and the most devious smile the prince had ever seen.

"Crowley. Manners." Luther muttered and the sheer gruffness of his voice made Aziraphale shudder. Crowley rolled his eyes before leaning back on one of the columns.

After what felt like 30 minutes of awkward silence Mattias stood and made his way down to greet the king of Azazel. Peace met war, and they shook hands with a smile, "Luther, I'm glad to see you made it out here without trouble."

" It's only a days trip from Azazel to Virtues. You'd know if you visited more. It did help that the seas were easy, but I suspect they'll be rougher sailing back once we're done here-"

"He's leaving today?" Gabriel stepped forward. _Lord have mercy_ Aziraphale thought. Serena made a pained noise from her throne but Mattias could only look to his wife with grief. Right where he was, Mattias put a hand up to silence his eldest. Luther raised a brow, a humorous grin spreading across his face.

"All the conditions have been discussed and settled Gabriel. Don't start-" Mattias began.

"What about the trial of brawn? All of our fiancés had to go through it, why is he the exception? After all he is the black knight," Gabriel spat gesturing to Crowley (who looked properly bored by now). Aziraphale stifled cry and looked to his feet. Imagine how embarrassing it will be when Crowley chooses not to duel for his hand, he didn't have to after all. Even Aziraphale knew no one would choose such a tedious thing, dueling is a fools sport. Gabriel was also aware of this, which is why he was unsettled by Crowley's reaction.

"Trial of brawn?" Crowley perked up, seemingly excited. There was a new pop to the knight's step that Aziraphale knew was not there before.

Mattias groaned wiping his face, "the suitor picks a member of their lovers family to duel as a test of strength. If they win its proof they can protect them properly, but it really isn't necessary for you-"

"You don't have to if your afraid, of course if you do lose Aziraphale stays with us." Gabriel was smug now, itching to get under Crowley's skin. Crowley simply fixed his shades and grabbed a sword from the racks on the wall. The fur coat sunk from his shoulders and the knight struck the most dramatic pose Aziraphale had ever seen, "I'll do it." Ah, so he was a fool.

Gabriel scowled, "So. Who will you choose to duel for Aziraphale's hand?" He gave his brother a small push forward, and the young prince was forced to look up. As their eyes met, Aziraphale found himself perplexed. There was something unreadable in the way Crowley looked at him. It made him nervous.

"Anyone- Anyone here I mean. Give me your worst," Crowley finally broke away from Aziraphale's gaze and lifted his sword once more. Gabriel hesitated, it was obvious to everyone in the room (including himself) that this wasn't a fair fight. Still, Gabriel walked over to Crowley and drew his own sword. Aziraphale's eyes widened.

"Me." Gabriel growled, he lifted his sword to Crowley's with a clash. Steel met steel. Aziraphale watched it all twisting his fingers.

"Oooh don't hurt yourself there love," Crowley smiled. He dodged another harsh swipe from Gabriel, who continued to swing furiously. It was hard not to focus on how mesmerizing it was, the way Crowley fought. It was as if he was dancing, the moves had no plan or thought but still came together gracefully. On the other hand Gabriel was swinging like a madman. This wasn't a fight between two level headed man. Gabriel was seeking blood. The two continued to brawl before Crowley was able to move quickly and cut Gabriel's chest. Distracted, Gabriel was tripped and fell against the castle walls. As blood seeped through the clothe of Gabriel's coat, the expression shifted on Crowley's face. A former graceful cool was replaced by something animalistic. Clocks stopped ticking as Crowley's arm lifted for the final blow, and yet, no one was saying a word. Aziraphale looked around to see blank stares in the crowd and felt adrenaline course through his body. This had to stop, this had to end-

"STOP!" Everyone turned and saw Aziraphale standing at the edge of the thrones steps. The room stopped shaking around Crowley, but his arm was still aimed to strike. He looked at Aziraphale, who was edging towards the battle scene, "You won, I'll go with you. I know you can protect me just please, put it down." Aziraphale kept his tone as gentle as possible afraid Crowley would recall that the prince had no power over him. He could kill Gabriel right now with little consequence. Crowley looked down at Gabriel and then back to Aziraphale, slowly, he lowered his sword. Aziraphale ran to his brother's side and carried him away from the crowd. They wobbled towards the hall before Gabriel stopped his brother.

"Why did you stop, I was just about to attack."

"Gabriel he was ready to strike you down! Blood was shed today when it didn't have to be. Can't you see you there's no way to stop this? "

"You can still say no Aziraphale, fuck that garbage kingdom. Didn't you see the way he fought today? He was savage regardless, didn't even care that you were watching. Do you really want to give yourself up to that?" Gabriel looked at Aziraphale like he was the dumbest person in the world, like he didn't understand what his sacrifice meant.

"I know the type of person he is Gabriel. I know that. But your argument is unfair, you wanted to duel Crowley today. It wasn't about me."

"Since when did I become the bad guy in your eyes Aziraphale? I was trying the last possible way to get you out of this hellhole but I guess my efforts meant shit when it was all through."

"Gabriel-"

"No please, go with Crowley. I tried to help but it seems that my chivalry has gone to waste. You can sell yourself away to that family but I don't want any part of the fucking exchange," Gabriel finished, pushing Aziraphale aside. The maids to flocked together to help him get by. Once Gabe was gone Aziraphale knew a familiar heat in his cheeks was returning. It flushed across his face and burned like hell, it was the heat of tears. Of course Aziraphale screwed up with the only person that cared about him in this void of a castle. Aziraphale should have learned by now to watch his tongue, years of practice should have done him good. He felt like crying but tears were hot and itched when dry. It would only make things worse, so he would not cry. Aziraphale turned back into the throne room to find Crowley waiting for him near the door, he reached for the prince.

"I don't know what's wrong with your brother but we have to leave now-"

"At least let me say goodbye," Aziraphale flinched. A look of surprise dawned on Crowley, then regret. He nodded and let the prince through. Aziraphale said goodbye to his siblings first, who all responded with the same unenthusiastic nod. No shock there. Then to his mother who sat on her throne still and quiet, she hadn't move once during the whole ordeal. Serena didn't acknowledge Aziraphale as he stood before her, but he knew she understood. There were no words to say, so Aziraphale bent down and hugged his mother. He hugged his mother as hard as he could, so hard he heard the air escape her lips.

"I love it," Aziraphale mumbled into Serena’s shoulder and although it was barely a fluttering against his cheek, Aziraphale felt a kiss. He let his mother go and made his way to Mattias who was still trying to calm everyone down. Mattias turned to his son and let out a shaky sigh, contrary to belief the king was as much of a crybaby as his sons. Aziraphale smiled and kissed his fathers forehead. Mattias began to scrunch his face up, avoiding the threat of tear leakage, Aziraphale couldn't help but laugh.

"Keep scrunching your face like that when you’re sad it will stay that way. Please...take care of yourselves, that’s all I ask of you," Aziraphale whispered, falling into Mattias' arms. Unlike the other fell children Aziraphale loved physical affection when it was offered. But now it felt desperate, like a final grasp until letting go everything he knew. The king held his son close for the last time. Once they let go, Aziraphale marched up to King Luther who had watched it all with an uncomfortable glare.

"I'm ready."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how are we all feeling about that? My love-hate relation with this Gabriel grows greater by the minute. Hopefully you guys enjoyed this chapter and sneak peak into the new characters that have arrived (and yes before you ask Luther is a huge dilf and I live by that).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale tries his best to avoid his new fiancé on the ship ride to Azazel, and on his quest he finds a few new people that make Azazel seem like it's not all bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, ok, I finally gave y'all some Aziraphale and Crowley alone time. There is a mention of a panic attack in this chapter, just warning you.

Aziraphale followed silently behind Luther as the king's chariot arrived to the gates of the palace. Luther looked down at Aziraphale for a moment expecting the young prince to critic the feeble wagon. One wouldn't call the chariot ugly, because that would be rude, but the exterior of this chariot could only be described as eerie. Creaking wheels that screamed to a holt, racking up dust every time the damn thing moved. The horse leading it was actually a 21 year old mule named Francis that reeked of cheese and dough. But Aziraphale simply nodded to the ruler and made his way up to the steps of his ride. Crowley was led to a horse behind the chariot and disappeared from Aziraphale's view. Not that the prince was looking anyways, in fact he was quite cross with his fiancé at the moment. 

"The maids put your bags into a separate chariot, I'll be riding with you today," The bitter guard (Aziraphale had learned was named Hastur) gestured to the leather seat across from his own. Aziraphale's eyes widened looking into the wagon's interior design which was a jaw dropping adverse to it's exterior. Small crystals of different color and shape hung from the ceiling and glimmered like a night sky freckled with stars. Wanted posters and witch advertisements were pasted across the velvet red walls. It looked very much like something he had read in a story book. The whole magical chariot fantasy was tanked though after Aziraphale's bum was met with the dense and barely cushioned seating. The prince's bum would never forgive him. 

"Scooch over, father says I have to ride with you lot." The princess of Azazel, Beelzebub, planted a firm booted foot on the doors steps and swung her arm around the chariots frame. She glanced at Aziraphale for a moment but didn't pay mind to the prince (who was still idling at the crystal ceiling). Aziraphale had thought Beelzebub was a bit of a wonder when she first appeared, he had never seen a princess dress in such masculine attire. Under her black coat she wore a suit and heeled boots (all black) with small awards and medals pinned across the chest, not even Michael would strive for an outfit so bold. Aziraphale held back his fascination of course, his curiosity tending to get him in trouble. Instead the prince spent his time stroking the soft velvet walls of the chariot and admired the way the smooth fabric chased on his fingers. The familiar weight of tension fell onto Aziraphale and he looked up to find Beelzebub and Hastur scowling at him from their seats. Hastur's reason was because the merry energy radiating from Aziraphale was overwhelmingly sickening and Beelzebub's was her face just being that way. Either way they both stared him down like a wounded prey just waiting to be gutted. Aziraphale cleared his throat and straightened his back in a way he thought polite (ignoring the way Hastur and Beelzebub slouched across their seat). 

"It's really quite lovely in here, there's barely any sun but the crystals still shimmer just as bright." Aziraphale attempted to crack the tension but only smudged the glass. He waited a minute for a response. Any response. Hastur didn't seem to react and turned his head to the window, letting the warm breeze kiss his face. The sun's warmth must be alien to the citizens of Azazel, after all Aziraphale noticed they create their own warmth. Long, thick furs and heavy boots, all of the Crowley's wore their hair long to cover their ears from the nipping cold. Virtues was never really warm, but it was never truly cold either. Aziraphale shook wondering if he could handle such a change, how icy the ports would be. He'd only hoped he'd packed a winter coat- 

"Y'know you talk nice. Nicer than anyone else in this bleak little kingdom," Beelzebub finally broke the silence and shifted her weight into the seat cushions. Her expression hadn't changed at all when she said it and her tone was rather monotone, but Aziraphale still beamed with delight, "Why thank you dear!" Just like that, the whole cart was set aglow by the pure relief of Aziraphale's smile, and all the cold thoughts went away. Beelzebub watched this and began to sputter in the most embarrassing way. 

"Wasn't- Not a compliment, stupid observation actually. And I'm not your 'dear'!," Everyone in the cart could tell her offended tone was a mere façade, especially Hastur who was rather impressed by the whole situation. Not many people were able to bring the royals of Azazel to such a state with so little words. Hastur would be lying if he said he didn't find it a little hilarious (or a lot depending on who he was speaking to). Oblivious as ever, Aziraphale carried on with that blissful grin across his face before the chariot began to move. Pure instinct caused the prince to quickly turn back towards the window to view the fading castle. There sat his whole entire life. Playing in the garden, feeding the fish in the stream, reading under his favorite oak tree and crying beneath the creepers. There was a lot more crying now that Aziraphale thought about it, more than what one would view as healthy. And his father, oh his father, watching the chariot take away his last son. Mattias' tears were free now, cascading down his face dampening the skin beneath them. Aziraphale turned back and sighed. He was done with the pain for today. He distracted himself by asking Beelzebub about her many awards and pins (Which after a few minutes of coaxing she gladly bragged about). Conversation soon flowed easy and the two were talking the whole way to Luther's ship, as well as Hastur budding in to make snide remarks. Aziraphale listened to Beelzebub and Hastur bicker and grinned at the sourness of them both. 

\---------------------------------------------------

St. Charlotte was a gorgeous ship. She was constructed with sleek mahogany and gold trims around her portholes, the sails were a deep maroon. She fit a certain gloomy aesthetic all too well, and when Aziraphale boarded he noticed the crew peek up at him with confusion. The modest tans and pales of his outfit stood out obnoxiously. Not to mention the nest of platinum curls sitting atop his head. 

"Hello," Aziraphale presented them with a small smile and waved to the onlooking crowd. Some sailors waved back happily, others grunted and moved on with the work of the ship. Comparing that interaction to the others that took place today, Aziraphale would take this as a win. As he made his way around the ship, Aziraphale counted the many snake symbols ( similar to Crowley's crest) carved into all of the mast. The carvings were rugged and shaped with haste. Nothing professional. He let his fingers drag across the wood, feeling the depth of the cuts. Before Aziraphale could reach up to compare the carving above it, a girl with unruly brown hair popped up from behind the mast and shouted "BOO!" Aziraphale fell back, hitting his already sore bottom onto the harsh wood floor of the ship. The girl in question stood over him with a grin not unlike Crowley's and just as menacing. 

"Sorry for startling you, you just looked so out of it! I'm Anathema!" She stuck out her hand and pulled Aziraphale off of the ground. The prince huffed a bit wiping the dust from his pant leg but kindly thanked her for the help. 

"Aziraphale, pleasure to meet you. I was wondering, can you show me where I'll be sleeping tonight. I just know nothing about this ship," Aziraphale had already glanced around ship to find any room except the captain's chambers but came out empty handed. He heard that some people slept in hammocks while sailing, but Aziraphale couldn't fathom such a thought. Thankfully, Anathema nodded vigorously and took Aziraphale's arm to lead him down the ship. Good timing too, since Crowley was starting to board as well (and was looking around to find his fiancé). Avoiding the knight for as long as possible was on Aziraphale's to-do list for the day. On their journey, Anathema introduced Aziraphale to multiple members of the ships crew, who all seemed more than happy to meet new royalty. Aziraphale was overjoyed talking to all of them and hearing their extraordinary adventures, especially one of the smaller sailors named Joel that blushed at the prince's presence. Aziraphale had given him a small flower that he plucked from the garden that morning, and Joel took it with great honor. Eventually Anathema and Aziraphale made it to a large trap door at the end of the ship, she heaved open the latch and crawled inside. Aziraphale cringed at the crusted dirt surrounding the door that crumbled as Anathema made her way down. "Oh come on, a little dust never hurt anybody!" She snorted, pulling Aziraphale down the hatch with her. Now as you know, St. Charlotte was a very large ship, one of the biggest in Azazel. It had 3 floors and was much slower when traveling the great blue. Hence why there were so few canons kept in the lowest floor, she was not a battle ship. So one has to wonder why Azazel even had a ship like this if not for warfare. The second floor though was filled with rooms for each sailor and 5 larger rooms for the royals. Getting to those 5 rooms was like a maze though, sharp turns and twists were inserted that made Aziraphale less than pleased. He had awful memory when it came to directions. Anathema finally made it to the royal's section and opened the door farthest to the left. Aziraphale entered the room but winced as soon as he saw the décor. It looked very uncomfortable. The bed was like a plank, straight and sharp in the corners. The room's walls were dark and had nothing but a single porthole to keep the light in. All of it was very...murky. Aziraphale sat on the bed and tensed when the cushion didn't sink at all, he wouldn't complain though. He was grateful Luther had given him such a neat room in the first place, he was sure lots of sailors would kill for it. 

"I know its stiff, all Luther's fault, he likes to keep things 'sturdy'" Anathema sat down next to Aziraphale and took his hand again, "I'm fairly certain dinner has been prepared by now, the crew wanted to eat before we set sail. I'll show you the way." Aziraphale didn't respond, knowing by now Anathema would drag him off even through protest. And he was peckish anyways. With that the two made their way up to the deck once more (Aziraphale masterfully avoiding the spider webs and crust). None of the crew was out and there was a yellow light streaming from a hallway near the ship's front. Walking towards this glow, Aziraphale could hear the faint sound of music and hearty laughter. That was exactly what he was met with when he entered the ship's lunchroom. Grown men danced on top of tables as others sang songs of drama and adventure. Most of them had taken seat on the floor sharing bitter rum from tin bottles. Aziraphale watched it all in amazement, he had never seen a room buzzing with such life! In the corner of the room, there was a round table that sat Luther, Hastur, Beelzebub, and Crowley. Crowley had just seen Aziraphale walk in before taking a swig of whatever was in his mug and patting the seat next to him. There was a casualness in the way Crowley sat, unfazed by the foolishness of the sailors. Aziraphale of course panicked and pulled Anathema into a stool next to him (she had already grabbed plates for them both). To his dismay, the knight took another sad swallow of his gin and watched the sailors rejoice. 

"What are you doing? Royalty doesn't sit with the crew its unheard of!," Anathema hissed as Aziraphale set himself down to eat. She was right of course, half the crew was staring at the two like they were from another planet, as well as the members of the round table. Luther and Hastur in particular looked shocked at Aziraphale's choice of seating. The prince didn't pay mind to it, in fact he scoffed at such an idea. 

"Ugh, do you ever ask yourself why such things are practiced? Sitting here and there, talking to him and her, it becomes so tiring Anathema! I would like to sit with you and these fine men," Aziraphale gestured to the youthful crowd of sailors still staring at him. All of them turned bashfully, getting back to their celebrations once more. "I don't want to sit with someone based on their class, where's the fun in that?" Aziraphale finished, taking a bite into the sailors soup. The sharp taste of garlic clove and chicken broth danced on his tongue, how lovely! It was warm and went down smooth, heating the core of his stomach. If the bedding was bad, the ships crew made up for it in food. 

"Astounding! I've never met any royal willing to eat with the crew. Most of them say it’s dirty....Although you should know I'm not actually part of the ships crew Aziraphale. I'm actually maid-in-waiting and the kingdom’s personal witch, although I prefer occultist." Anathema began to eat her food as well like nothing, not noticing Aziraphale's gaping jaw. He had never met a real witch before, oh but the storybook's he's read! Witches with wonderous powers who danced with the Earth and sang songs of magic. Virtues didn't have any witches, in fact the people of Virtues were dreadfully boring. But so far the people of Azazel are absolutely miraculous! 

"I'm the astounding one? Anathema you're a witch! Do you realize how unique you are? That's positively marvelous, tell me, can you read palms? OH or auras? What am I like through your magic lens?," Aziraphale grabbed Anathema's hands bouncing with excitement. The witch was forming a deep scarlet on her face now, smiling to herself. 

"Yes I can read auras, and yours is quite...bright. In fact its overwhelming, you're like my own personal flashlight." Anathema giggled and looked around Aziraphale's figure with awe. What only she could see was the streaming light flowing around the prince, choking any darkness that interfered. Anathema was going to reach out to Aziraphale before she saw his face shift. Unknown to her, Aziraphale had caught sight of Crowley stalking towards his table. The prince quickly thanked Anathema for her hospitality and rushed out of the lunchroom. He heard half the crews soft goodbyes on the way out, but he was barely able to respond at the speed he was walking. Aziraphale had almost made it to the hatch when he heard a loud creak above him, but he didn't dare look up. 

"No, no, go on, maybe if you lift the latch quiet enough I won't notice," A velvety voice echoed from the top of the ship, and Aziraphale had no choice but to look up. Crowley clung to one of the ship’s nets looking down at his fiancé. Crowley had shed his coat completely now wearing nothing but a white blouse tucked into black pants, but he still wore shades to shield his telling eyes. His hair was down now as well, flowing just above his slightly exposed shoulders. Quick as ever, he dropped down and landed holding the ground beneath him. There was that animalistic attitude again, slowly lifting and stalking towards Aziraphale. Soon enough the prince was backed into a mast. 

"You've been avoiding me." 

"I haven't the slightest idea-" 

"Mm, save it, what's the matter?" Aziraphale sighed and made his way towards the edge of the ship. He looked out to the quiet sea, and the reflection of the stars played on the waves. "You've got to tell me sometime, I am your fiancé after all..." Crowley followed and leaned back next to Aziraphale. 

"Not very common for a fiancé to almost kill their brother in law." 

"Ah! So that's what all this is about," Crowley chuckled and turned to face the sea as well. 

"I don't see what so funny about that! I thought you'd want to woo me when we met and maybe not behead my brother but y'know, whatever works for you." Aziraphale hissed. Crowley looked around confused as if he missed something. 

"I thought that was wooing? Fought for your hand n' all that, won in fact! Last time I checked that counted as wooing-" 

"Well not for me Crowley! I've never been wooed in my life, never even gotten a flower I just thought-" Aziraphale caught himself when he saw that Crowley was truly perplexed. Of course he didn't know, "I'm sorry...I just thought it would be a little different is all," Aziraphale finished hugging himself. He had just believed that maybe for once in his life, someone would actually want to sweep him off his feet. That someone would walk in, see him and just...fall. Maybe Crowley had tried, but it wasn't his fault he hadn't done it right. 

" 's nothing you have to apologize for, you can yell at me. Serves me right for bein an arse." Crowley mumbled. Aziraphale scrunched his brow at the vulgar language but appreciated the effort none the less. 

"It wouldn't be very proper to yell at you, you're my fiancé. Yelling at you wasn't in the contract." Aziraphale couldn't help but notice Crowley's hurt expression that immediately changed to excitement. 

"How about you not see me as fiancé then. How about a friend, yeah? Then you can yell at me all you want," Crowley gave a toothy grin and held his palm out for Aziraphale to shake. 

"Friend?" he raised a brow. 

"Friend." Crowley confirmed, swaying his hand a bit. Aziraphale hesitated for a moment before gently taking his fiancé- his friends hand. With a firm shake, Crowley turned around and then reversed back to meet Aziraphale's gaze. 

"Hello person I've never met before, my name is Anthony J. Crowley, black knight and slayer of thieves. What's your name and would you like to be friends?" Aziraphale looked Crowley up and down bewildered before the knight raised his brows expectantly. Oh! A fresh start. Aziraphale beamed then, and although he couldn't hear it, the soft pattering of Crowley's heart had skipped a beat. 

"Why hello Sir Anthony J. Crowley, my name is Aziraphale V. Fell, prince of the kingdom of virtues and reader of books. I would love to be your friend," The two just stood and grinned at one another for a minute. There was a sort of lift to Aziraphale's shoulders, like all the anger and bitterness of the day had ceased to exist. All he was left with was content. Aziraphale piped up again, "What's the J stand for?" 

" 's just a J really, what's the V stand for," 

"Oh who knows just a V really. So, when did your darling Luther have the time to build such a fine ship?" Turning to his new friend, Aziraphale was expecting a normal answer. There was a humorous glint that formed in Crowley's eyes, the way they did when Gabe mentioned the trail of brawns. 

"Geez I don't know, I'd have to ask the people we stole it from."

"The people you WOT?" It all made sense now. The ship only being for cruising, the hasty carvings, the lack of ammunition. Aziraphale was standing on a ship of lies. 

"Don't worry Aziraphale, we gave 'em a good life boat and some rations. We're not animals y'know." Crowley joked, but Aziraphale couldn't be in a less giddy mood. Just when Crowley was warming up, this was revealed! Aziraphale could only pray Anathema wasn't half as barbaric. With a huff Aziraphale stormed towards the trap door, leaving a wheezing Crowley alone. 

"You'll get lost if you go down there by yourself, gimme a sec and I'll help show you the way-" 

"I don't want any help from the likes of you!" 

"Oh feisty, I like it." Aziraphale rolled his eyes and took the steep drop down to the second floor. Sadly, Crowley was correct. As soon as Aziraphale made his first turn he found himself lost. There were just so many numbers and doors. Anxiety started to pulse in Aziraphale for the 600th time that day. He should of waited for Crowley, what a joke. Aziraphale was supposed to lead a kingdom but he couldn't even remember the way back to his room. Useless, absolutely meaningless. Were the walls always this thin? They began to close in on Aziraphale and the prince clung to floor he hadn't realized he sunk to. It was all a trap, Aziraphale was stuck on this fucking ship forever. The buzzing in Aziraphale's ears was so loud, he didn't notice the echo of a voice down the hall. A shadow formed above him and the walls stopped sinking. 

"I told you to wait for me," Crowley bent down to Aziraphale's level but was careful not to touch him. Slowly, Crowley tapped on the wall mimicking Aziraphale’s breathes. They calmed. Through his attack Aziraphale still managed to pout, and it almost made Crowley laugh, "let me show you to your room, it's the least I can do for being a dickhead...again." 

"Language...and yes I think that's only fair," Aziraphale took Crowley by the hand and he was lifted with ease. The walk was filled with small talk and Crowley's jokes, with Crowley even taking a stop to kiss a painting of his great grandmother smack on the lips. The prince was careful not to laugh too much, he was still angry with Crowley, but it helped that the knight was so funny. Both of them were oblivious to the fact that they seemed to walk slower every foot they got closer to the dorms. But it was all over too soon when Aziraphale caught glimpse of his door. He should feel relieved...shouldn't he? 

"Thank you," Aziraphale shuffled awkwardly as Crowley opened the door for him, "it's all a bit harsh isn't it?" he whispered. 

"What is?" Crowley looked down at Aziraphale then to the room, realizing the issue, "Sorry, my family has the ability to sleep through anything anywhere-" 

"No, it's not that. It just feels so dark and empty in here don't you think? My room was a lovely brown shade- OH and I can be a nasty hoarder, I used to fill my room with books, thousands of trinkets and fluffy blankets. Father says a proper prince would keep his room tidy but here I am, messy as ever." Aziraphale was rather fond of a messy room. When he felt empty, the trinkets and books were little things to keep his company when no one else would. Soon though, Aziraphale's fingers became sticky and he'd compile any little thing that made him feel happy (he especially enjoyed little porcelain angels). Maybe that's why none of the maids said goodbye, after all it was their job to pack all those things in the end. 

"Fluffy blankets huh? Not anything I'd really go for but you seem like the type. Anyways I gotta go, people to annoy and things to break. Goodnight, Aziraphale." Crowley quipped and began to saunter away. Aziraphale scoffed at his new found friend knowing he’d have to deal with that attitude till the end of time. Having a friend was such an unfamiliar custom to Aziraphale, no one had ever wanted to be his friend before. Well there was one person, Oscar, but too soon he was married off to some duchess in the 3rd kingdom. Aziraphale was only 14 then, and still knew little to nothing about what friendship entailed. Maybe Crowley could finally be his start. The prince didn't really sleep that night, the bed being even more uncomfortable when on his back. Yet he lay in silence, knowing Azazel was waiting for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAH ok, so tell me why when I picture this Crowley he gives me very much Howl vibes (From Howls Moving Castle). He's just my little earing and tight pants wearing boy. ugh. But anyways I hope you guys enjoyed their first personal interaction!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ship land's in Azazel, and the day goes on with more surprises than anyone could expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys I'm so sorry for the late update! My school just started back up and I've been really stressed putting everything together for the year. This chapter has a few time skips but all in all I graced you with more Aziraphale and Crowley content so please take that as my apology gift. I also updated the chapter to 17 officially, but if anything changes I'll let y'all know.

"Crowley wanted me to let you know we're near the dock...so make sure to bring all your frilly stuff," Beelzebub said, loafing onto the corner of Aziraphale's doorway. Today the princess was wearing a long fur coat, but her shaggy locks were now tied back into a sort of rabbits tail beneath the nape of her neck. Her face was more exposed now, and Aziraphale could see that spreading from the bottom of her left cheek to the bridge of her nose was a flat pink birthmark. Before Aziraphale could get a better look at it, Beelzebub had already covered it with a thick strand of hair. She must of thought he was just getting up, but the prince had awoken hours before and was already tussling with his unruly, and rather stark blonde curls. A night of stiff and restless moving in bed caused Aziraphale's hair to lose it's normal flowy state. And did he really hate when he looked messy or unkept, it made him feel like a child. The witch, Anathema, had thankfully loaned Aziraphale one of her small hand held mirrors so he could at least fix his face.

"Thank you for telling me dear," Aziraphale responded kindly before returning to his curls, but Beelzebub still stood in the doorway anxiously. It was obvious she wanted to ask him a question, she had that unmistakable look on her face. It was the same look Uriel would give him when she needed something that others would find absurd, but her older brother would somehow understand. Aziraphale put down Anathema's mirror and set his hands onto his lap. If he was to live with Beelzebub, he should at least be able to confront the thing's she's bothered by, right?

"Is there something you wish to say?" Aziraphale added, thinking he'd get a similar response as yesterday, offended and annoyed. He was instead met with a very upset sounding huff from the princess. She tried to be subtle in adjusting her bangs to cover the expression on her face, but Aziraphale had already taken note of the gesture beforehand.

"You didn't sit with us yesterday" Beelzebub murmured, like a child getting a new toy they were forbidden to play with. Aziraphale was rather shocked hearing this, he wouldn't have thought in a million years anyone at that table would crave his company. It would have been flattering if Aziraphale hadn't notice how much it really irked Beelzebub, but in all realness he hadn't expected this at all.

"Oh! I'm sorry-"

"Don't apologize, it's not your job to sit with us or anything. Again, simple observation." There it was again, that defensive exterior Aziraphale was not having today.

"Well I'm sorry anyways, I didn't know anyone had wanted me to sit with them yesterday, I never thought anyone really cared-"

"I don't care-"

"But if you did, I would very much like to make it up to you by sitting together at dinner. It'll be dreadfully boring without someone to talk to." Aziraphale interrupted, hoping Beelzebub couldn't tell that the prince was nervous. What if that wasn't it, what if she really hadn't wanted his company? Aziraphale could get ahead of himself sometimes. Instead of rejection, Beelzebub nodded and then lifted herself from his doorway trudging back down the hall. Feeling more reassured than normal, Aziraphale went back to adjust whatever mess of himself remained from last night. He had asked some of the crewmembers to look through his bags for a winter coat, but they came back having found nothing but Aziraphale's thin shawl. The temperature had dropped drastically the night before, but Aziraphale couldn't be more excited about it. Azazel was one of the few kingdoms that had almost a full years winter (including snow, which the prince had never seen before). The coldest Virtues would ever get would be equivalent to what other kingdoms call "fall", but nothing more than a few trees turning brown occurred during this season. It had been fall when Aziraphale left home. But Azazel was a whole different story, frost floated above the shoreline and pinched the edges of the pine trees. And it was so cold. It was like the feeling that he used to get from the castle tile, was all around him now. The ship came to an abrupt stop and jerked Aziraphale's stool. They had ported. There was nothing to take with Aziraphale but the small hand mirror, so he grabbed it and raced down the bedding hall. Eventually through aimless running, Aziraphale opened the hatch door. Cold. Freezing in fact. But it was wonderful.

"I was wondering when you'd get up here! Crowley's been waiting for you!" Anathema lent down in front of the hatchet's opening and offered a hand to Aziraphale. He accepted it gratefully and was pulled up into the frosty air. He was finally here wasn't he? Aziraphale took in his surroundings but couldn't see much at the moment, a thick and icy fog mucked up any view past the docks. The docks themselves were layered with a thin sheet of frost similar to the shoreline.

"You don't have a coat," Anathema was also wearing a coat now, it was a lot more fashionable then the ones Crowley or Beelzebub wore, sort of like a dress but fuzzy.

"I'm afraid I've never really required one till now," Aziraphale said, beginning to quiver. Maybe the cold wasn't the best thing for Aziraphale at the moment. Anathema lead him over to the edge of the ship where a docking ladder was thrown over the side. Most of the crew crowded around the exit, including Crowley who was talking to one of the smaller members, Anathema fondly recalled this sailor as Newt. The conversation was unfortunately short lived due to Crowley seeing Aziraphale's shivering state. The distressed look on his face when walking over worried Aziraphale, had he done something wrong? Maybe he had kept Crowley waiting too long-

"Are you mad? Where's you coat? Jesus- Satan we're in the middle of winter!" Crowley blurted, standing over Aziraphale who was convulsing at this point. The chattering of his teeth was too loud for verbalization, so Aziraphale gave him a weak shrug. Crowley threw his head back, groaning into the air dramatically. Aziraphale looked down at the thick coat Crowley was wearing and wished to just bury his entire face into the chest. But then Aziraphale thought of Crowley's chest hair and the way it grew just below his collarbone, it must be just as warm. Aziraphale stepped back from Crowley flushing at the thought, he had never allowed himself to think so inappropriately. Crowley didn't notice and instead untied the strings of his coat and shed it. Under the coat he wore a black turtleneck with baggier pants then the night before, they were tucked neatly into his boots. Carefully, the coat was wrapped around Aziraphale's shoulders and tied to fit his shape. It was quite heavy and Aziraphale seemed to melt into the heated weight, he peered up at Crowley as the older man finished tying the strings.

"How kind of you," Aziraphale whispered. Maybe it was something in the way Aziraphale's cheeks reddened as he said it (or how the little snowflakes danced so prettily on his lashes) but Crowley pushed back abruptly. The strong hands that once ghosted the top of Aziraphale's chest were now gliding through Crowley's hair nervously.

"Ngk, 's nothing, cold doesn't really affect me anyways," Aziraphale nodded, but couldn't help sinking into the coat a little more. It smelt like apple's and gin. Soon enough the crew member Newt led Aziraphale over another door near the hatch.

"This will take you to a proper exit, most of the crew take the ladder to save time," Newt was a small man, but not in the physical way. In fact he looked to be almost 6 feet tall. But his voice was quiet and everything he did, he did carefully. As if at any moment the world would shatter around him. Aziraphale wished to make him feel better, more reassured, but he didn't know how.

"You've been a great help Newt, I wish you well on your next journey," maybe Aziraphale could make him reassured, because the look of pride that Newt developed after Aziraphale left him was more than enough to let him know he had helped. Moving down the staircase, Aziraphale could already see the glaring light from the exit. Hastur was waiting at the bottom of the long stairway, grinning wickedly. Aziraphale was going to ask him what he was so joyous about before slipping on a large sheet of black ice and landing on his back. A snort cracked out of the prince. Now, I must inform you, this is not the first time Hastur has done this. In fact, the guard had a habit of pranking and thoroughly pissing off royals of the 5 kingdoms. Hastur just hated the way they thought they were better, as if royalty removes mortality. Knowing that they'd never expect someone to throw them down a notch, Hastur played tricks for a laugh every once in a while. So yes, he knew that Aziraphale would slip on that ice, but what he expected was an angry prince cursing him out. What he actually got was Aziraphale to falling on his arse, and then bursting out in laughter. Genuine, hearty laughter. It was dumbfounding, where did this kid come from? Virtues! Out of all kingdoms, the kingdom of stiffs and religious freaks. It made no sense! What Hastur didn't know, was that the fall was like a relief for Aziraphale, he was so afraid of embarrassing himself that when he actually did there was nothing to do but laugh about it. Especially when it was so damn funny.

"Y-You devil! You knew that was there didn't you?" Aziraphale struggled through quick intakes of breath, still clutching his stomach with laughter. Hastur didn't really know how to react, so he started to laugh with Aziraphale. Hastur didn't usually laugh with people, but he felt it was the only right thing to do in this situation. Aziraphale was truly oblivious to the fact that Hastur intended to make fun of him, and for once Hastur was happy about that. Hearing the commotion, Crowley dropped down from the ships ladder and ran towards Aziraphale (who was STILL dying of laughter on the ground). Hastur was in a full fit of laughter now too, using his knees as leverage from falling.

"What happened here? Hastur you fucking prick-"

"Oh Crowley you should have seen it! I flew off the ice and landed right on my bum!" Crowley watched as Aziraphale wiped the tears in his eyes and smiled. Aziraphale finally wiped himself of any dirt of ice and let Crowley lift him from the ground. A shit eating grin spread across Hastur's face and he threw Crowley a challenging look.

"Oh come on Crowley, have you forgotten how to have a little fun? At least you're boyfriend knows what a joke is." Aziraphale beamed at this and joined Hastur in the challenger stance. Crowley noticed this and scoffed, shifting his stance as well.

"Of course I haven't forgotten Hastur, I just wanted to make sure I'm the one who gets to kiss it better," Crowley finished with a wink at Aziraphale, who was absolutely mortified and sputtering nonsense as his defense. Hastur was laughing at Aziraphale now, but for good reason. He gave the young prince a "participation pat on the back" before finding his way back to the lone black carriage at the edge of the wood. That must be their ride back to Azazel. Aziraphale was afraid of the ride now, knowing Crowley would be sitting right next to him. How could he become so awkward in so little time? There was no time to dwell on it now though, since Aziraphale was already being led to his carriage.

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Aziraphale had been right. The ride was painfully quiet, except for the sounds of branches and rocks cracking beneath the carriage wheels. Crowley was sitting next to the prince, surveying the outside of the carriage window like a hawk. The same went for Hastur and Beelzebub. Aziraphale wondered if there was something he just couldn't see, or maybe couldn't hear. It wasn't a worry in the back of Aziraphale's head, danger, not now at least. Luther and his men rode horseback alongside the wagon, the horse's muzzles nudged into the wagon every once in awhile, blowing out puffs of air as they trotted. All in all it was expected to be a smooth ride, until one of the horse's began to violently stomp in panic.

"Stay here," Crowley said to Aziraphale before him and Hastur both shot up and slipped out through the carriage windows, the stomping and neighing intensified. Fog seeped into the window making it difficult to see what was going on outside, and Aziraphale began to worry. He looked to Beelzebub, but she was as nonchalant as ever. Soon enough silence struck and it became too much, so Aziraphale hopped out from the opened back door. Crowley and Hastur must have been in front of the carriage, because the back was void of any human or animal life. Aziraphale crept quietly, searching for the supposed intruder. There was a scratch in the bushes and Aziraphale made a sharp turn to peer into the dried leaves. What he found was a small boy in rags, his hair was long and was tucked behind pink ears. His grey eyes were stretched with fear looking up at the prince. Why, this was just a child! The young boy made a sharp turn to leave but Aziraphale grabbed him by the sleeve.

"Don't run, they have dogs and frankly, I don't want you getting hurt," Aziraphale pleaded, still white knuckling the sleeve of the child. The boy looked towards the wood, and then to Aziraphale. He nodded in compliance, and Aziraphale let go, "Now tell me, what was so important that you had to give that poor horse such a fright, hm?" The boy didn't look at Aziraphale, but instead at his feet.

"The sword. I can't play with the them until I have one"

"The them?"

"Other kids, they all have wooden swords. 4 of them. Ma doesn't know how to make one-"

"So you wanted to steal one of my fencing swords?" The boy nodded shamefully. Aziraphale thought for a moment, the maids had packed him 10 swords in total, all the same shape and size perfectly fitted for Aziraphale's hands, "What's your name?"

"Warlock," the boy answered. Aziraphale nodded, then pulled one of the swords out of the carrying bag and examined it. Warlock began to tremble.

"Well Warlock...you could have just asked. Here, take it," Aziraphale held out the sword for Warlock to take, but the boy just stared at it. A minute passed and Aziraphale realized the issue, "ah, you need more don't you? Here, I'll take half and you can place the rest in the carry on bag to take home for you and your friends, yes?"

Warlock was still in absolute shock, but took the carry on bag Aziraphale had given him. The bag looked so out of place with the rest of Warlocks outfit. Satin with little gold strings to tighten it. Warlock opened his mouth to thank Aziraphale but two guards hand already wrapped their arms around the young boy.

"So this is the thief huh? Putting yippers out to stop the horses?" Crowley glared down at Warlock. Crowley's face was stern now, but nothing too serious. It was so strange, when the carriage first stopped Crowley looked as though he was ready to kill. He reached for the bag, but Aziraphale was quit to swat his hand away.

"Stop. Both of you unhand him!"

"But he stole your sword-"

"I gave it away."

"You WOT?"

"I gave it away! I was once taught to fence with a 50 year old fishing rod, I'll do just fine with 5 perfect swords." Aziraphale finished, huffing when the guards released Warlock. Crowley's whole face had now been stretched in surprise, but a fond smile took it's place instead. If Aziraphale was a fool, he would think Crowley adored him, that maybe he was beginning to think of the naïve prince fondly. But he knew better. Warlock dropped to one knee and took Aziraphale by the hand.

"Thank you Mercy! I won't forget this," he then kissed Aziraphale's hand and ran off with the fencing sword. Aziraphale looked to Crowley for explanation, but the knight was still watching Aziraphale with a nameless expression. When a gust of cold wind hit and pulled Crowley together, he pushed his hair back and grinned at Aziraphale.

"Mercy, it's a tale of an angel who watches over the people of Azazel and gifts them with joy. When a person dies, they say mercy takes the goodness of their heart and exchanges it for light, turning you into a star. The better you are as a person, the brighter you shine in the night sky," Crowley explained. He watched as Aziraphale picked at the hem of his undercoat. There was never a time when Aziraphale considered that Azazel would even have folk tails, and such wonderful ones at that. Aziraphale wanted to hear more, to know more, but the conversation was ended when Hastur pulled him aside to get back into the carriage.

"Don't ever do that again, you're lucky it was just Warlock, he always pulls some shit like this. I tell ya' kid you're either very brave or very stupid," Hastur finished setting Aziraphale back in his seat as of he were a toddler.

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How can a kingdom be everything you thought it was and not at the same time? This was the thought that puzzled Aziraphale when crossing the Barrier of Azazel. The city was in ruin and the buildings were crumbling by the minute, made from aged brick and gravel and covered only by thick sheets of red hay. Graffiti was plastered across the walls and homes, almost all of them in a red font spelling 'FORGIVENESS'. Sludge and snow clung in heaps to the bottom of the carriage wheels slowing it immediately. Aziraphale couldn't believe it, dumpster fires, yippers, and the wrathful bite of winter. And yet...music. Soft and played on instruments that required heavy tuning, but music! And the sound of children's laughter after throwing balls of snow. One had managed to hit the carriage and the children for a moment ceased their battle in fear of punishment. They quickly noticed the new royalty sitting in the carriage watching them in awe, and decided it was safe to return to such foolishness. Seeing all of it unfold made Aziraphale want to bounce, for he wished to join them. He wished to play in the snow and laugh and forget about his awaiting responsibility. Alas, all he could do was watch the people and wonder how one could still find joy in such poor conditions. Too quickly though, Aziraphale was pulled from his fantasy by the carriage's speed increasing. Another day maybe. A warm hand was placed on Aziraphale's arm, and he turned to greet a grinning Crowley. He would never admit it, but Aziraphale often found his eyes drawn to the sharp canines Crowley bore because they were just so convenient. Even his smile was a bit spooky.

"When we get to the castle I want to show you something, well two things, but you have to listen to what I tell you ok!" Crowley whispered this to Aziraphale as if it was some big secret that no one else was in on. The prince found himself becoming excited and nodded obediently. He didn't love big surprises, but he did like being pleasantly shocked every once in a while. Crowley could do either one at this point. But that was nothing to dwell on, because minutes later the fog lifted and the palace of Azazel emerged. It wasn't as big as Virtues but the threat factor was there. Sharp architecture made for a truly uninviting area, but apparently that was what Luther was going for. The cement was a deep red, almost like brick but much more vibrant in shade. Guards armed with large hammers and swords stalked wordlessly about the entrance, which was lined with black carpet. The only welcoming thing about the castle was a large glass dome built atop the center, all that Aziraphale could make out from inside of it were green blobs. Curiosity would get to him on that one, he was sure of it. The carriage stopped and was emptied out, Aziraphale being last and almost lifted out by Crowley. Already waiting on the carpet were 3 guards and a large black...horse?

"Bentley, oh my pretty girl!" Crowley raced to the horse with open arms, a happy neigh was the response. Aziraphale watched as Crowley stroked along her muzzle, making sure that she was properly loved before calling for Aziraphale. Now this was his first obstacle huh? Animals were never a good match for Aziraphale, they always nipped or peed on him when close. Maybe he gave off some sort of revolting scent due to his cologne, Aziraphale wouldn't know since his barber suggested it and all that. He stepped up slowly to the horse, watching as it eyed him up and down. An attempt was made to pet her muzzle as well, but Bentley kicked forward almost hitting Aziraphale in the chest. Luckily Crowley was there to tackle him back and save him from impact. They didn't fall, but instead clung together in an awkward kneel. The clinging part mostly applied to Aziraphale though, who had watched his life flash before his eyes. He ate too much pasta.

"Shit, sorry 'Ziraphale, she's always like this with people I just thought..." Crowley stopped himself and opted instead to pull Aziraphale upwards.

"No, it's really REALLY quite fine, great actually, um Is there a back door I can go through where the horse won't try to kill me?" Crowley laughed at that, but Aziraphale was still shaking like a leaf. One of the guard grabbed Bentley's rope and led her back to the stable. Aziraphale didn't move until he was sure the reincarnated Jack the Ripper horse was out of sight. He then followed Crowley cautiously into the palace. Aziraphale was greeted by some of the maids and butlers, but most just steered clear of the royal's entirely. Near one of the castle balconies, a women with crimson hair down to her waist had her back turned to them. She set the brush that was previously woven in her hair onto the sofa, and turned her head slightly.

"You've kept me waiting far too long, lover," now fully turned, Aziraphale was overtaken by her beauty. Her face was round with sun kissed skin, and plump lips tinted with a cherry red. And don't get Aziraphale started on her eyes! Big and brown, guarded by thick lashes. She was a vision draped in silk and gold. And she seemed to float across the room to Luther, who was practically beaming now.

"It was only two days Lilith, nothing to fuss about," he held the tall women in his arms, and somehow she fit perfectly. Like she was created to lie there. Aziraphale longed to feel as complete. Looking away from her husband, Lilith set eyes on Aziraphale and gasped.

"They were right! You are a pretty boy," Lilith was heading towards Aziraphale, who was embarrassed again for the thousand time that day, "Such pretty curls and rosy cheeks! Oh, no, I'm sorry. You're probably hating this right? Strong men such as yourself must despise 'girly' compliments." Aziraphale shook his head.

"I have no problem relishing in my femininity, what's the shame in being pretty after all? I find myself quite enjoying all the pampering...OH! But don't tell my father, he's a brute-," Silence. Oh maybe Aziraphale had said too much again. Well, that was the thought before Lilith squealed and took both of Aziraphale's hands in a happy bounce.

"Finally, someone who understand! No one in this damn castle knows a thing about such things, not even Anathema (who by the way was very offended by that statement)! Ok tell me, does your hair develop such volume naturally or is there a method-"

"Hold on Lilith, before you take Aziraphale to your chamber of torture where no mortals returned, I have to show him his next surprise." Crowley cut Lilith off and led Aziraphale up the steep staircase of the castle before she could detest. The ceiling of the castle was just like the chariots, crystals and lights hung from the ceilings and it smelt of herbs. The railing of the staircase was marble, Aziraphale tried to focus on the feeling like he did before but pondered something.

"Crowley, why do you refer to your mother by her first name? I was always taught it was most inappropriate-" Crowley barked out a laugh and continued to lead him down a hall.

"Well, she's not my real mother if you must know, father only married Lilith about 4 years ago."

"Oh dear, I'm sorry I shouldn't have assumed-"

'It's really fine, my real mother died when I was young...and it's not like Lilith is bad or anything she's always been a sweetheart, tries her best. So no harm no foul right? Nothing to hold onto now,' Crowley laughed again, but this time it was uncomfortable and forced. Aziraphale noticed that about Crowley, he said and did things out of instinct but his body was always a tell. It was the way he squeezed Aziraphale's hand when he laughed, and the way Aziraphale squeezed it back. The two finally made to Aziraphale's 'surprise' which was two large doors in the middle of the hallway. Crowley then turned his back to the doors and wiggled his eyebrows.

"Ok, when I count to 3, you open your eyes."

"Oh really Crowley this is-"

"No oh really, princey poo, close those eyes," Aziraphale groaned but obliged, shutting his eyes.

"One"

A creak, the doors had been opened.

"Two-"

Crowley began to shuffle away. Aziraphale became nervous and opened his eyes, Crowley shouted.

"I didn't say three damnit!"

"Oh goodness Crowley!" The room was a beautiful disaster, filled with Aziraphale's trinkets and toys all hung up on some sort of shelf or nook in the corner. The walls were yellow with little green spruces freshly painted as a design and little paper cranes hung from the ceiling, soaring like doves. There was a nightstand as well with all the lotions and creams Aziraphale had carefully wrapped himself, and a new brush. The most noticeable part though was the bed, filled to the brim with pillows and fluffy blankets. Aziraphale wanted to do something, anything to show Crowley how much he appreciated this. All he could muster though were happy gasps and sighs when touching all of his things. His things, all here!

"When did you have time to do all this?" Aziraphale asked, still gazing around the room in amazement.

"Some of the crew was sent out to row overnight to the kingdom, I told them to prepare your room just as you said. Messy." He said this with a mocking tone, but Aziraphale was still grinning wide enough to crack his face open.

"How do I repay you?"

"Forgive me, for the duel and for hurting Gabriel. It was stupid of me to pick fights, I know."

"Oh dearest, I forgave you the night we met," Aziraphale sighed, not realizing the word dearest had slipped from his mouth. And also not realizing the effect it had on Crowley.

"Jeez, you really are an angel. Makes sense with all the little glass ones you collect, might actually have to start calling you that. Angel?"

"Hm?" Aziraphale replied, already accepting his new title.

"I have to leave for the night-watch soon, I set off before sundown so I won't be in attendance for dinner. I asked Lilith to show you the way once the time comes." Ah, the dreaded night-watch. Where Crowley becomes someone else, someone Aziraphale never wanted to meet.

"When will you be back?"

"By morning...oh don't worry angel, I'll be back here faster than you can say Alpha Centauri," Oh Crowley, always so strange. What was Aziraphale going to do with him? For now, the prince could only nod and watch the black knight leave his side once more. Doomed to survive supper on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was chapter 4, just letting you guys know Lilith is my wife now. I don't know how to make those little note things where you can number a word, but yippers are basically a type of rat in this universe that's attracted to shiny metals so they go after the horseshoes. But lets just appreciate Aziraphale for being a true pretty boy on this chapter because have you seen him?


End file.
